An Imperial Affliction
by Toasty-Creampuff
Summary: Tulips are an everyday sight for young Anna. While her cancer may be in remission, her life is surely going on without her. Anna and her mother's lives are changed when the Dutch Tulip Man strolls in uninvited. -My own interpretation of An Imperial Affliction-
1. 01 A Rose and it's Thorns

_I awaken everyday to the smell of fresh flowers. It's a strong smell, but it gets old fairly quickly. Maybe it's because of my mother's poor vision she puts potent fragrances around the house to make herself feel more comfortable. She says that they look gorgeous, and putting them in glass vases enhance their beauty more so. If you ask me, it's just a waste of money. She practically forced me outside the house to go find tulips. Unfortunately, they are quite difficult to find. So, I spent everyday looking around town for a flower merchant, and I bought as many tulips as I could to bring back home. That, or I spent my time lurking among the dull and grey colors that surrounded me. Nothing was really all that vibrant, it was just scenery after scenery. They all molded together willingly, so I never paid much attention to what was going on around me. I never cared too much about boring and blank colors. I would rather spend my time looking at aesthetically pleasing things. So perhaps finding new tulips was a blessing than a curse. It would get me outside, rather than being cooped up in my own home._

 _I wrote that in past tense because I can no longer willingly go outside like I used to. You see, having cancer doesn't make anything easier, if anything, I've been cursed by the Tulip Gods or something. Cursed to be tangled up in bed sheets everyday, and living in the same room, seeing the same old colors plague my vision. My day-to-day activities include reading, staring at the window, and now I can say with pride that writing is now apart of the very few things I do for amusement. When I told my mother that I wanted a journal, she practically flipped. She bought me five different journals, each varying in different sizes. I'm still currently on the first one, since I intend on taking my time with it. I'm in no rush in finishing this journal. In fact, I just started this journal today. My mother got them over a month ago and they been sitting in a corner gathering dust. It was impromptu, but I grabbed a pen and the biggest journal I had and started writing._

 _I guess writing can become a tool for ranting and venting about my painfully boring lifestyle. Like the monotonous architecture that I'm used to seeing, my life has become just as dull. Of course, the out of the ordinary experiences happen sometimes. My pet hamster, Sisyphus landed on his back while running on his small wheel, and yes if you couldn't tell because of his name, I enjoy learning about Greek mythology. I guess I find immortal gods fascinating, since the explanations for some of them are so intriguing. However Sisyphus on the other hand is just a sad tale._

 _A man who is cursed to push a boulder up a hill for all eternity only to watch it fall down as soon as he brought it up. One couldn't pity him though, it was his own foolery brought upon himself. If he hadn't run his mouth, he wouldn't have gotten into so much trouble. The thing is, I'm the foolish girl who would pity such a man. Seeing something spiral down into decent, even though you worked so hard to prevent it, it can be a damper on a soul. It wasn't like he could walk away either, he was forced to go through that constant torture. He experienced never ending agony, being placed to roll an over sized rock up a hill. Maybe I'm projecting my own problems onto Sisyphus, and that's why I'm relating to him so much. Then again, naming your hamster after a Greek legend isn't considered connecting. If anything, I'm the one putting the curse onto my hamster. Being called Sisyphus until the day he dies, isn't that just as important as the tale itself...?_

 _I must learn to stop talking about such weird things... I'm awfully strange. But that's enough about talking in the past, let's proceed onto current events. A bird landed next to my window a little while ago, and that was interesting, It was a common blue jay, nothing too different, another thing that happened today was-._

"Anna? I'm sorry to interrupt, but do you mind coming out here for a second?" My mother's piercing voice made me drop my pen into my bed. I close my diary instinctively, but I know she won't come into my room. My mother has this thing where she allows privacy, since I get so little of it. As expected with trips to the hospital and other revealing things go. I slowly crawl out of my bed and hobble outside my door. My mother is a gardener, and of course she is absolutely obsessed with flowers. I'm highly grateful that I'm not allergic to pollen, because my sinuses would be a constant chore all year round. I don't think that my mother's obsession will die out any time soon, she simply can't get enough of floral.

My house is filled with windows, so that the flowers can grow. That means that natural light is always seeking it's way into my home. I shield my eyes from the luminous light and slowly creep my way to my back porch. More often than not, my mother is always situated in the backyard, tending to our overgrown garden. Of course as expected, it is filled to the brim with tulips. All different colors combine together. The word I would use to describe the garden is _vibrant_. You simply can't look away from it. I'll admit, it is very nice to look at, and my mother did put her blood, sweat, and tears into her gardening. That doesn't mean she isn't crazy, she still is.

A love for flowers is simple, a crazed love for tulips is out of hand. Nothing is planted in our garden other than tulips, so it could get pretty sickening after a while. The scent of them aren't too pleasant either. Exposing yourself to them for too long could cause a headache. I should know since my own personal experience with my mother's garden included a pounding migraine. I open the slider door, and take a step out. The wooden deck feels warm underneath my feet. I carefully tiptoe around it, since I'm somewhat paranoid I'll get a splinter in my foot. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to step outside barefoot, but I don't think too far in advance. I could say that for my whole life, since I wasn't expecting cancer to knock me right off my feet, but that could be said for anything.

I found my mother sitting next to her tulip flowerbed. She was on her knees, sitting on top of a mat so her pant legs won't become filthy with mud. Her enormous hat was covering her eyes, so the sun wouldn't disrupt her. Although, my mother's eyes aren't what they used to be. Something happened to them when she was younger, leaving her blind in one eye. She never goes into full detail since she becomes afflicted with pain. I understand her reasoning for not telling me the whole story. Something's aren't meant to be delved into. You shouldn't force yourself into pried knowledge.

My mother looks up for a brief second to take in a breath when she sees my figure standing in front of her. She flinched, but quickly recovered and collects her thoughts. She gives me a smile and takes off her gardening gloves.

"Ah, Anna, isn't today so beautiful? I was going to say, why not spend sometime outside? It will be good for you." Her voice is like a soft chime. You can't help but become attracted to it. Much like the tulip garden. My eyes narrow down at the flower bed she's been working at. Next to the wooden crate, I see a packet of unopened flower seeds. My mother noticed my silence and she became concerned.

"Anna, is something the matter?" She asks, her tone becoming more steady. She tries to follow my line of sight, but can't seem to make out what I'm looking at.

"What kind of flowers are those?" I ask, completely catching her off guard.

"Huh? What do you mean? Oh- you mean these? She bends down and picks up the unknown flower packet. It's revealed that they are roses. "I accidentally purchased them at the store today. They were in the same row as the tulip bulbs, so I couldn't have known." My mother laughs. She brushes it off like it's nothing.

"Are you going to plant them?" Again I make her stop laughing, and she puts her focus on me.

"What? No, silly, I'm not going to plant these. I'll probably take them back tomorrow. I have no need for roses. The thorns always make me feel uneasy. Like I might prick myself by accident." She puts them back down and picks up her shovel and started digging a new hole to plant more tulips. My eyes are still kept on the rose packet. I lift them up from the ground and hold them in my fragile hands.

"Do you mind if I kept them then? Seeing as you have no use for them?" My mother keeps digging a hole in the ground, not really paying attention anymore.

"Sure sweetie, whatever makes you happy." She said nonchalantly. I thank her, and before she can say anything else, I rush back inside my house and into my room. It would be a shame seeing perfectly good rose bulbs go to waste. Seeing a red rose would be a nice change in atmosphere for my repetitive life. I see my journal still closed on my bed and I pick up the pen again and continue writing where I left off from earlier.

 _It was a common blue jay, nothing too different, another thing that happened today was my mother gave me a packet of rose seeds. Who knows, maybe I'll become like her and become a rose fanatic. In the meantime, just thinking about growing them brings a warm feeling inside me._


	2. 02 A Garden and it's Beauty

I tap my pen against the wooden table, trying to write something in my blank journal. In retrospect, I shouldn't be so hard on myself. At least I'm trying to be productive. Yet the page is taunting me every minute I don't have something down. Well... at least something significant.

 _The only event worth noting is that my mother purchased a new book for me to read. It's some random book she found at a local store, just another bargain. She said another customer recommended it to her for young children. She automatically assumed I would want it, since I fit in the target demographic... Other than that, nothing happened today._

Now that doesn't sound too interesting, at least to my extensive knowledge. I don't understand how people can have fantastical things happen to them, while I just sit at home and read books. It's not even that I don't like reading, it's that these authors are dripping with creativity, while I just sit there, wasting my time with reading their work instead of writing my own. The only problem is that I don't know what to write, and if I can't come up with something, there is a fine chance that someone has written it before me.

So generally speaking, I'm just another mundane girl trying to fulfill my life to the full expectation. Great. I don't know, my daily plans change from day-to-day. Sometimes I spend time looking around the tulip garden for information, other days I try to count how many square tiles are on the kitchen floor. I always lose count around two hundred and fifty, because I realize how idiotic the idea is, and go back to sulking around the house.

Even though I live near the shore, I still can't find much to do. No matter the idea I fall back into the same routine, and it's not like I could change it, because nothing interests me enough.

Perhaps that's the ironic part. I want to do other things than what I'm accustomed too, but my standards are set so high that nothing seems enjoyable. My mother's only interest are gardening, and to be even more specific, gardening tulips. Which like I stated previously, that tulips aren't one of my interests.

I guess I could a part of my journal for ranting, since nobody is even going to look into the book without my permission.

 _The word tulip is such a commonly used word in my house. I have no idea where my mother's addiction started. And when confronting her about it, she brushes it off like nothing. "It's not an addiction, I just like tulips." is her gateway sentence. I don't think there is anybody else in the world who loves tulips as much as she does. In reality, that's pretty depressing to hear. Then again, there are plenty other things to become addicted to, and I'm glad that it can't get any worse than it already is. At first, I enjoyed seeing flowers lighten up the house. It provided an extra layer of warmth, however, like the seasons, seeing the flower grew into a steady cold feeling. It was subtle, but even though they were pretty to look at, seeing them so often made me want to pluck every petal off of them and throw them around the house. I wouldn't actually follow through though. I wouldn't want my mother to grow through that sort of pain._

Now I feel bad. This feels like I'm talking bad about my mother behind her back. Again, my options for today are limited immensely. I lean back in the chair more, and my mother walks in on cue into the kitchen and gives me a smile.

"Having fun today Anna?" She asked, pulling up a chair and she rubbed her forehead. I pushed myself up more and gave her a bored look.

"No. If anything, I'm miserable." My voice vociferated. My mother just laughed plainly. Not the response I was hoping to hear.

"Don't say that Anna, I'm sure something will happen today. What about reading that new book I got you? That might be fun." She got up from the chair and went over to the cabinet and pulled out a steel pot. She's probably going to cook soup tonight for dinner.

The only reason why my mother is inside of the house is because it is currently raining outside. The rain is falling like a constant rhythm. Where I live, the weather is always unpredictable. Some days it could reach over ninety degrees, on other days, we could live through a rainstorm. Non-stop pouring for a period of time.

I obliged to my mother's wishes and went into the living room where I had placed the new book. It still had the receipt inside of the cover flap. All I did was glance over the synopsis and stare at the cover for a little while. It suppose to be a children's classic, something about a boy in a factory. I'll just watch the movie a little later, my mother won't oppose buying it for me. She could make a run to a floral shop while she's at it, she could get something for herself. Not that she doesn't do that anyways, she does, and frankly her addiction isn't going to cease after a few potted plants.

"Hey mom, what are we eating for dinner?" My voice sounded somewhat foreign, I guess I wasn't use to hearing my own voice out loud too often.

"We are going to have soup. I figured since it was a cold day we could eat something warm. Does that sound good to you?" Her voice echoed into the living room. I didn't respond, but I merely flipped to my back on the couch and looked at the ceiling for what seemed liked hours. The window right above the couch let in blue light. It was still raining, and it was excruciatingly boring. The only thing good about the rain was that the droplets reflect off the petals, and it looks like crystals. The tulips collect the dew and the water just molds the flowers into a cascade of rainbows. Each tulips shows off its individual color, and when the rain falls on the multi color tulips, it really looks like they blend together into something prettier.

"Hey Anna, still bored?" My mother walks into the room without a care in the world. She looked up at the window and peered outside. "I really should close all of the windows, we don't want the rain to get in." She said to nobody in particular. At least, I hope she wasn't talking to me. I slumped back up into a slouched position, it wasn't good for my back, but I plan on sitting right back down after she was done. She leaned over the couch and shut the hatches for the window. The room darken immensely, but there was still some light in the room.

"There! That's better than before. Are you still comfortable?" She asked plainly. I nodded my head and tried giving her a smile in return. It was painfully weak compared to hers. But she never seemed to notice little details like that. I don't think her vision is to blame though, she chooses to ignore it.

"In a little while dinner will be ready, have fun til then." She kissed my forehead and continued on her set path. I peered at the ceiling and ignored her request to have fun. I'm such a downer...

I rested my head on the couch rest and felt my eyes going heavy. Even though I'm well aware about the fact that dinner should be finished soon, I would prefer to take a small nap in preparation. Maybe I'll dream that I'm in a field of tulips, and that every time I go and stride around, I'll become consumed in tulips. So much so, that once I had enough the tulips won't let me be. I'll become lost in an acres upon acres of the pink flowers. However it won't be that bad, since the smell of the tulips are so sweet, it would be nice to relax in their fragrance. I would do so many things with a patch of tulips, perhaps when I awaken from the dream, I'll manage to bring home one, and Mother will be blessed with the world's most beautiful tulip.

I know that I'm tired, because I started listing off the positive aspects of tulips.

My mother wasn't the one to wake me up from that short relieved nap. I was awaken by another smell, her cooking. I guess I was more hungry that I thought, and the sheer power of chicken noodle soup can wake me up. I sigh. That is such a stupid thing to think about. It wasn't even homemade chicken noodle soup, it was simple store-bought soup. Some brand name. I'm not really suppose to eat super heavy food, so most of my dinners include soup, or a small sandwich. I push myself off from the couch and force myself into the kitchen. I find my mother hovering over the stove. She holds a ladle in her right hand and starts stirring the soup repeatedly. She hears me walking in and she turns her head.

"Hey Anna, you're just in time for dinner." She grabs two bowls from the cabinet. One for me and one for herself. If you're wondering if they have flower designs on them, you would be right. When I say my mother had a tulip addiction, I'm not lying.

I sit at the wooden table, I can't even reach the ground with them, I'm far too short. Supper tonight was plain chicken noodle soup, very plain and very boring. She poured the liquid into my bowl and I hesitantly picked up my metal spoon before eating. I was waiting for her to sit down too, but she was still moving around.

"Aren't you going to eat too?" I asked, my voice sounded so weak. My mother shook her head and wiped her hands on a small towel.

"I'll eat in a little bit, I have to put the outdoor furniture in the garage before they become completely soaked. You can start eating though. If you want something else, we have some leftover pie in the fridge." With a smile, she was off. I looked at the soup and spinned it around with my spoon before eating. Dinner was abnormally lonely that night.

After eating the soup, I placed my bowl in the sink and walked back into my room. I was still awfully tired even though I had a nap before.

I looked at my bed, and crawled into it. Ignoring the increasing sound of the pouring rain just outside.


End file.
